Kim

'The Gates of Learning? Truly. And the day that we ate the cakes

together at the back of the river by Nucklao. Aha! Many times hast

thou begged for me, but that day I begged for thee.'

'Good reason,' quoth Kim. 'I was then a scholar in the Gates of

Learning, and attired as a Sahib. Do not forget, Holy One,' he went on

playfully. 'I am still a Sahib--by thy favour.'

'True. And a Sahib in most high esteem. Come to my cell, chela.'

'How is that known to thee?'

The lama smiled. 'First by means of letters from the kindly priest

whom we met in the camp of armed men; but he is now gone to his own

country, and I sent the money to his brother.' Colonel Creighton, who

had succeeded to the trusteeship when Father Victor went to England

with the Mavericks, was hardly the Chaplain's brother. 'But I do not

well understand Sahibs' letters. They must be interpreted to me. I

chose a surer way. Many times when I returned from my Search to this

Temple, which has always been a nest to me, there came one seeking

Enlightenment--a man from Leh--that had been, he said, a Hindu, but

wearied of all those Gods.' The lama pointed to the Arhats.

'A fat man?' said Kim, a twinkle in his eye.

'Very fat; but I perceived in a little his mind was wholly given up to

useless things--such as devils and charms and the form and fashion of

our tea-drinkings in the monasteries, and by what road we initiated the

novices. A man abounding in questions; but he was a friend of thine,

chela. He told me that thou wast on the road to much honour as a

scribe. And I see thou art a physician.'

'Yes, that am I--a scribe, when I am a Sahib, but it is set aside when

I come as thy disciple. I have accomplished the years appointed for a

Sahib.'

'As it were a novice?' said the lama, nodding his head. 'Art thou

freed from the schools? I would not have thee unripe.'

'I am all free. In due time I take service under the Government as a

scribe--'

'Not as a warrior. That is well.'

'But first I come to wander with thee. Therefore I am here. Who begs

for thee, these days?' he went on quickly. The ice was thin.

'Very often I beg myself; but, as thou knowest, I am seldom here,

except when I come to look again at my disciple. From one end to

another of Hind have I travelled afoot and in the te-rain. A great and

a wonderful land! But here, when I put in, is as though I were in my

own Bhotiyal.'

He looked round the little clean cell complacently. A low cushion gave

him a seat, on which he had disposed himself in the cross-legged

attitude of the Bodhisat emerging from meditation; a black teak-wood

table, not twenty inches high, set with copper tea-cups, was before

him. In one corner stood a tiny altar, also of heavily carved teak,

bearing a copper-gilt image of the seated Buddha and fronted by a lamp,

an incense-holder, and a pair of copper flower-pots.

'The Keeper of the Images in the Wonder House acquired merit by giving

me these a year since,' he said, following Kim's eye. 'When one is far

from one's own land such things carry remembrance; and we must

reverence the Lord for that He showed the Way. See!' He pointed to a

curiously-built mound of coloured rice crowned with a fantastic metal

ornament. 'When I was Abbot in my own place--before I came to better

knowledge I made that offering daily. It is the Sacrifice of the

Universe to the Lord. Thus do we of Bhotiyal offer all the world daily

to the Excellent Law. And I do it even now, though I know that the

Excellent One is beyond all pinchings and pattings.' He snuffed from

his gourd.

'It is well done, Holy One,' Kim murmured, sinking at ease on the

cushions, very happy and rather tired.

'And also,' the old man chuckled, 'I write pictures of the Wheel of

Life. Three days to a picture. I was busied on it--or it may be I

shut my eyes a little--when they brought word of thee. It is good to

have thee here: I will show thee my art--not for pride's sake, but

because thou must learn. The Sahibs have not all this world's wisdom.'

He drew from under the table a sheet of strangely scented yellow

Chinese paper, the brushes, and slab of Indian ink. In cleanest,

severest outline he had traced the Great Wheel with its six spokes,

whose centre is the conjoined Hog, Snake, and Dove (Ignorance, Anger,

and Lust), and whose compartments are all the Heavens and Hells, and

all the chances of human life. Men say that the Bodhisat Himself first

drew it with grains of rice upon dust, to teach His disciples the cause

of things. Many ages have crystallized it into a most wonderful

convention crowded with hundreds of little figures whose every line

carries a meaning. Few can translate the picture-parable; there are

not twenty in all the world who can draw it surely without a copy: of

those who can both draw and expound are but three.

'I have a little learned to draw,' said Kim. 'But this is a marvel

beyond marvels.'

'I have written it for many years,' said the lama. 'Time was when I

could write it all between one lamp-lighting and the next. I will

teach thee the art--after due preparation; and I will show thee the

meaning of the Wheel.'

'We take the Road, then?'

'The Road and our Search. I was but waiting for thee. It was made

plain to me in a hundred dreams--notably one that came upon the night

of the day that the Gates of Learning first shut that without thee I

should never find my River. Again and again, as thou knowest, I put

this from me, fearing an illusion. Therefore I would not take thee

with me that day at Lucknow, when we ate the cakes. I would not take

thee till the time was ripe and auspicious. From the Hills to the Sea,

from the Sea to the Hills have I gone, but it was vain. Then I

remembered the Tataka.'

He told Kim the story of the elephant with the leg-iron, as he had told

it so often to the Jam priests.

'Further testimony is not needed,' he ended serenely. 'Thou wast sent

for an aid. That aid removed, my Search came to naught. Therefore we

will go out again together, and our Search sure.'

'Whither go we?'

'What matters, Friend of all the World? The Search, I say, is sure. If

need be, the River will break from the ground before us. I acquired

merit when I sent thee to the Gates of Learning, and gave thee the

jewel that is Wisdom. Thou didst return, I saw even now, a follower of

Sakyamuni, the Physician, whose altars are many in Bhotiyal. It is

sufficient. We are together, and all things are as they were--Friend

of all the World--Friend of the Stars--my chela!'

Then they talked of matters secular; but it was noticeable that the

lama never demanded any details of life at St Xavier's, nor showed the

faintest curiosity as to the manners and customs of Sahibs. His mind

moved all in the past, and he revived every step of their wonderful

first journey together, rubbing his hands and chuckling, till it

pleased him to curl himself up into the sudden sleep of old age.

Kim watched the last dusty sunshine fade out of the court, and played

with his ghost-dagger and rosary. The clamour of Benares, oldest of

all earth's cities awake before the Gods, day and night, beat round the

walls as the sea's roar round a breakwater. Now and again, a Jain

priest crossed the court, with some small offering to the images, and

swept the path about him lest by chance he should take the life of a

living thing. A lamp twinkled, and there followed the sound of a

prayer. Kim watched the stars as they rose one after another in the